The Servants of Ungoliant
by Bauglir100
Summary: Long ago, at the closing of the First Age, unbeknowest to the Valar, Ungoliant has set her abode in the barren wastes of Arvalin, in Mórenorë, the Dark Land, where she is the Queen of its mysterious inhabitants. This begins the story about these inhabitants, and the many peoples they interact with. Continued in "Part II: The Swerting-Darklander War" and "Part III: Mother of Pain".
1. Vyköl

Ungoliant was anxiously resting her massive sack of a body on her Great Throne, in the massive cavern under the Crack, a massive network of ravines, canyons, trenches, chasms, and tunnels delved in Mórenorë, the Dark Land. She was not attempting to rest; All eight of her red eyes were scanning the depths of her chamber. Before and over her, the end of the Crack opened up into her lair. Above the Crack was a blood-red sky. She was smelling the air beyond that. She sensed something nearby.

"So he has returned here at last?" Ungoliant said aloud. "Why must he delay himself so many times?"

Her hideous, pallid face was crossed with a malevolent smile.

"But no matter, I have work for him to do for me, so that will guarantee compensation for his lackluster efforts…"

Indeed, someone was climbing down the Crack, towards the bottom. Indeed, he was at the rim of the entrance to Ungoliant's lair. The repulsive armoured form of a creature contorted with spikes that riddled and broke the structure of his Man-like body stood black against the red flare of the skies above. The figure, with bent, jointed legs and twisted arms, released himself from the sides of the ravine, and dropped down thirty feet into the dark chamber. He was wielding crude, curved schmitars in his clawed hands, and was clad in mesh and sable mail and a tattered black cloak. He was crouching before Ungoliant, tilting his head upwards so that the luminous green of his eyes met the glowing red of Ungoliant's. He then bowed down to her, with his blades crossed over his ridged head.

"Vyköl, you have returned at last." said Ungoliant to her servant.

"Indeed I have, O Tremendous One!" said Vyköl with a low, raspy voice that was half hissing, half drawling.

Ungoliant stopped smiling and glared at her minion with frustration.

"I have a task for you. Fail me, and you shall be thoroughly chastised."

"What is your bidding, my queen?"

"I sense a presence in this land. Greater than one of those wretched Eldar, yet not as great as an Ainu…"

"Then it is one of those-?" asked Vyköl.

"No." said Ungoliant. "It is something even more pathetic."

"Must I go out to seek it?"

Ungoliant bent forwards, and stomped her armoured forelimbs before Vyköl. She was simply irritated.

"You _must_ seek it!" hissed the Queen of Unlight angrily. "I cannot tolerate something freely traversing my lands, unchecked, that is even more pathetic than you! Now begone!"

"It shall be done." said the armoured demigod.

Vyköl then stood up and bent his legs, and with great strength, he catapulted himself onto the chamber's walls, and crept out of the chamber's entrance, and climbed back up into the Crack. He climbed along the walls of the Crack until he reached the lip of the ravine. He leapt out of it, and drew out his schmitars. He scanned the blackened wastes before him.

He saw a dark mass in the distance, and eyed it suspiciously. He then crept towards it, under cover of darkness. Vyköl was half creeping, half hobbling along the dark waste, as though his right leg was that of a crab. His right arm was jointed like the leg of a spider, the hand was twisted around, so that his claws were extended away from his body; He was clutching the scimitar that it held backwards. He looked on towards the large shape with great intensity. He could sense the purpose of this thing, and he wished to slay it. It turned out to be something he did not expect to see in the Southlands, let alone Mórenorë.


	2. Naikamil, Mother of Pain

**Author's Notes:** Naikamil actually originates from "Middle-earth Role Playing", so she is not an OC, but a Non-Canon character. However, the personality, descriptions, etc. are provided by this author.

Vyköl stood before a massive black creature, which was resting on the ground. It was a wingless dragon. But not a fire breather, but a cold-drake. The cold-drake's body was black and sleek, with a clean array of horns and spikes along its back. How long it may have wandered Mórenorë, Vyköl neither knew nor cared. He gripped his schmitars firmly, and let out a loud sound, that was somewhere between a hiss and a whistle. The Cold-drake awoke with a groan. As it stood on its legs, Vyköl identified it as a female. The dragon looked around sleepily until she saw the armoured brute that ended her slumber.

She sighed, then spoke with a calm, cool voice: "Could it be within possibility to rest? Clearly not, for even here in the most forsaken land in all of Arda, something wishes to disturb me. I must inform you, misshapen brute, I slew my previous consort on my journey to this land, and I believe I can manage you the same way."

"And for what reason do you come here?" asked Vyköl. He seemed interested by her presence well enough to restrain himself from attacking her.

"The War of Wrath." said the she-dragon, casually. "The Host of the West invaded the Far North, and I was forced to flee. But while most fled East, I chose to flee here, where none would threaten me."

"Well, you were a fool to come down to Mórenorë, of all places!" said Vyköl.

"Fool?" snapped the dragon, disgusted. "I am no fool! Naikamil, am I! Mother of Pain! And who are you to insult me?"

"A fool you are!" shouted Vyköl. "I serve Ungoliant, the Queen of Darkness! I am her herald. And thus, if you question me, you question her!"

Naikamil gasped with widened eyes. The sound delighted Vyköl.

"_Ungoliant_?" the dragon repeated, aghast.

"Yes, you stupid girl!" gloated Vyköl, pointing a schmitar at the dragon. "And I cannot allow you to go freely any further! You are to answer to my Queen from now on! Ya hear?"

But Naikamil laughed mockingly.

"I shall do no such thing." said Naikamil, defiantly.

But Vyköl guffawed loudly in response, swinging his blades wildly round in the air, before bashing the two together with a deafening _clang_.

The sound made Naikamil lurch away with a squeal, clutching her horns with her sharp claws. Vyköl leapt up and, with incredible strength, kicked Naikamil hard in the lower jaw. The dragon sank to her belly, weakened. She sighed, and closed her eyes. Her long forked tongue was lolling out of her mouth, and lay stretched out along the ground.

"Not _that_ is more appropriate, my sweet!" hissed Vyköl at the unconscious cold-drake, as he crept towards her, and climbed up Naikamil's snout, and along her head, to utter into her ear-hole. "Now if only you were to be this competent awake."


	3. The Spider and the Dragon

Vyköl then leapt off Naikamil's head, and wheeled himself around in the direction of the Crack. He then looked back at Naikamil, and chuckled for a moment. She then leaned against her head, and slid the tip of one of his blades between two particularly large scales. He walked along her body, dragging his blade along the gaps, until he came to her under-belly. He pulled the weapon out of the gap between the dragon's scales, and poked her soft belly ever so gently. Three times he poked the dragon's belly before Naikamil woke with a jump and a squeal.

"Perfect." quipped Vyköl to the dragon as she stirred, slowly gnashing and clicking the massive, pointed teeth in his skinless jaws together between sentences. "Now that you are awake...again, you can come with me. Now!"

Naikamil spat a green fluid out of her mouth into a nearby hole and coughed. Her tongue was still lolling. She groaned in annoyance at Vyköl's comment. She no longer felt haughty, but utterly humiliated; She, a dragoness at least seventy feet in length, had just a moment ago been incapacitated by this six-foot tall…_Thing!_

"But what is this creature?" thought Naikamil, succumbing at last to her curiosity. "Not a spider, though he resembles and moves as one. And yet he walks on his hind limbs like a Man! But no mortal could ever inhabit that abhorrent spike-ridden, armoured form without perishing under the strain of the shape alone! He must be one of-!"

But she then realized that she had no longer the strength to fight something as doughty or as horrible as Vyköl. And she knew she could not escape from him now. She had no choice:

"Very well." said the dragon, reluctantly to her captor. "You have proven you point; I am yours."

"Ah." said the armoured creature, unbending himself, and dropping his hissing drawl for a deeper, more enforced voice. "That was much easier than I could ever believe it would be. Now come!"

And then Vyköl marched Naikamil into the Crack, much to the dismay of the latter. Together, they climbed down the ravine, and into Ungoliant's chamber. Naikamil gasped loudly at the sight of what would be her new ruler. Vyköl sprang up ahead of the dragon, and saluted his Dark Queen.

"I have returned, my queen!" declared Vyköl to Ungoliant. "And I have brought to you a prisoner!"

Ungoliant seemed skeptical about what her servant had returned with; She saw Naikamil only as a pathetic beast. She glared at this sniveling dragon, which shrank before her tremendous size, with a wrathful gaze. She then looked down at her armoured thrall.

"Very well," said Ungoliant to Vyköl. "You have pleased me. You may return to the Southlands. Do whatever you wish there."

Vyköl whooped loudly, and without another word, he leapt back up into the ravine and climbed out of the Crack.

But Ungoliant forbade Naikamil to leave her presence. She scrutinized the black drake with her many eyes. But when Naikamil shuddered, Ungoliant responded in a cruel manner: She wrought a cluster of steely thongs, with which she heartlessly enmeshed and brutalized Naikamil. Naikamil whimpered under the strong grip of the webs, but did not attempt to free herself.

"So," hissed Ungoliant angrily at the dragon. "You dare to lurk my lands as one that defies the laws I myself have established these past centuries?"

"Forgive me!" whined Naikamil, indignantly. "I did not know that your presence on this land was marked!"

"Silence..." uttered Ungoliant, coldly. "If you are to stay within my lands, you are to serve me, and do as I bid, lest I slay and devour you!"

Indeed, the belly of Ungoliant was already fattened by years of devouring light, but her hunger remained the same, albeit easier now to control...for now. She could still accommodate well more than a mere cold-drake in her bloated stomach.

"I yield!" cried the dragon to the spider-like entity before her. "I shall serve you, in whatever way that can be deemed possible!"

Ungoliant gripped the bound dragon with her forelimbs, and glared into Naikamil's orange eyes. Then with her other limbs, she removed the webbing from the dragon, and hurled her across the chamber in disgust. Naikamil sprawled on the ground, crippled, but Ungoliant merely cackled at her. But she was still pleased, and decided to show mercy to her prisoner.

"You are spared," said Ungoliant. "But you may not leave Mórenorë; You are to live in these lands as my personal thrall!"

The dragon, laying in a crumpled heap in the dark, groaned quietly in response.

Meanwhile, Vyköl had moved with great ease along the Crack, and came to the northern shores, and to the beginning of the Black Screw, a great screw-like passage, which stretched across the Haragaer, and bridged the Dark Land to the Islands of Ormal. He then proceeded to traverse the passage to the archipelago.


	4. Ignorance and Comeuppance

When Vyköl came to the Islands of Ormal, it was dusk, and that wretched White Disc was now waxing across the dark sky; the night had just begun here. He had reached the southernmost isle, and was prowling the beaches. He looked in the dark for anything that stirred.

He had no trouble in doing so; his eyes could see through any shade of darkness. He was also one of the few entities in Arda whose eyes could penetrate Unlight. So he would have no trouble in searching the islands for whoever and whatever he wished to find.

As he walked, the waves crashed against the shore, and into a wall of rocks that lined the sandbars. Once in a while, he heard a bird caw in the distance, or the wind blow against the nearby tree-lines, but he heeded them not. Vyköl decided to advance further inland; he turned towards the jungle. And walked upright, his swords sheathed into his under-vest. The night air was completely silent. But Vyköl knew this island was inhabited. He even knew _whom_ inhabited it. But-

"Where is he now?" thought Vyköl. "Perhaps he is in the Sunlands, driving those pathetic _Gongs*_ away from our lands? If that should be the case, then I must go there. The Queen would be _so_ pleased with me!"

And so he ventured northward, to the Sunlands across the Haragaer.

Meanwhile, in the Sunlands, a woman was traveling through the Suza Sumar*. She was most unwelcome by her appearance, as fair as it was, for the folk of those lands did not tolerate any strangers that came from the North.

The woman stood under the dark trees. She was cautious of her surroundings. She heard tales of creatures that would lurk in the dark lands of the South under the night sky, hunting for flesh to devour.

Her entire body was concealed by a black, hooded cloak, save for her pasty, but beautiful face, which had red lips and blue eyes. Locks of her dark hair, as well as a glint of jewelry on her brow, were visible under the rim of her hood. She looked around the forest, expecting some dark shape to move through the undergrowth. She took a few steps into a vast field, doubtful of the possible danger around her.

"Perhaps there _is_ nothing to fear." thought the cloaked woman, naively. "And why would there be? I am safe here! The only thing larger than a bird around these parts are Apes! Pathetic, simple-minded Apes!"

However, in the canopy just above her, a dark figure crept among the branches of a large tree. It looked down upon the woman with curiosity in its eyes. The woman walked on across the clearing into the forest. She feared not the forest, and now she doubted entirely that anything that lived in this land could be able to harm her.

The figure climbed down the tree. It jumped off the black trunk, and crept towards the woman, clutching a small black object in its hand. The woman stopped, but did not turn around; she was looking forward at something in the distance, with a blank expression on her face.

The black shape then raised a hand aloft and playfully threw the object it had been holding at the woman. It hit her square in the back of her head, and she fell forward with a scream, hitting the rough earth before her, face first. The woman lay face-down on the ground, and moved no more. Then the creature screeched loudly and jumped up and down, pounding its chest with its fists, excited; It was an ape. Not a demon, nor an Orc, nor any servant of Melkor or Ungoliant; It was simply a wild ape.

The ape then realized it had killed her. It leapt back up the tree, screeching with grief, fearful of the stranger's cadaver. But before it could comprehend anything further, a vast winged shape swooped down from the black sky, and with steely talons, grabbed the ape as it reached the top of the tree. The ape screeched loudly, as it was lifted to the heavens by its flying captor. As it did so, stars began to appear in the sky. The winged shape flew towards the East, and vanished into a dark cloud.

**Author's Notes:**

Suza Sumar=The Great Forest of the South. Located between Far Harad and the Sunlands.

_Gongs_= Goblin-like monsters of a savage variety. Reside in the Southlands, mainly the Suza Sumar and the Sunlands.


	5. A Storm is Coming

The moonlit forest was alive with the loud buzzing of insects, and the howls of wolves in the distance. The five Elves moved restlessly through the forest. Findecáno walked at the head of the group, with a two-handed mattock in his hands. Behind him, Dínendal had his bow strung in his left hand and held two arrows in his other hand. At the rear, Lenwë and Golradir carried broadswords in their hands. Bows similar to the one held by Dínendal were slung on their backs. But in the middle, Aerandir was carrying a white lantern, with a long knife and a short sword in damasked scabbards to his sides on his silver belt.

"A storm is coming…" said Golradir, looking up into the night sky and gripping his blade. "And wicked shadows stray in my thoughts. I fear for the worst."

"We all fear for the worst, Golradir." said Aerandir. "But I myself sense the presence of something horrible lurking nearby. Whether it stalks us or not, I cannot say."

Lenwë looked out into the distance. He was exhausted, but afraid all the same. The trees concealed all else in their shade. In vain, he scrutinized the darkness itself for anything noticeable. He also attempted to listen for anything unnatural, but anything that could be heard at that moment was drowned out by the loud buzzing of the insects above them. These invisible pests droned on endlessly while they remained in that area of the forest.

Eventually, the Elves managed to leave the forest, and came into a spacious green field. But the dread and the gnats remained with them. It was at this time that Aerandir took the opportunity to douse his lantern. The light died and the pesky little creatures scattered and droned wildly in the dark, before at last, they left the Elves forever.

"Praise the Valar." sighed Findecáno in relief. "Now we may rest in solitude, once we find someplace safe.

They soon came to a large hill. They piled their gear in a dell near the top, and sat in a circle in a patch of tall grass. Heavily they drank from their canteens, and spoke of the fear they felt in the forest.

"I must say," said Aerandir. "Not since Beleriand have I sensed such a black and foul presence."

"Foul indeed." said Golradir. "Fouler still is Morgoth, but foul nonetheless."

Lenwë cursed the name and spat.

"But what thrall of Morgoth," said he. "Would linger this far to the South, when the War is to the North?

"Perhaps for the same reason as us," said Findecáno. "If it _does_ serve Morgoth."

"Whatever made you suggest that?" asked Dínendal, puzzled.

"Do you not recall Lammoth?" asked Lenwë. "And the Great Shadow that came across the Ered Gorgoroth?"

His companions shuddered at the memory, and shivered. The thing that fled out of the North. How it entered Doriath. How its presence defiled the lands near Menegroth. They were thankful for the Girdle of Melian, which drove it away.

"What are you suggesting, though?" asked Golradir.

"Perhaps the Great Shadow," said Lenwë. "Was not the only evil being to flee to the South? Or perhaps the evil we sensed in the forest was native to these lands? Perhaps there could be a connexion between the Great Shadow and the Horror?"

This thrice-enforced concept of the horror only frightened the other. Seeing the dread in his companions' eyes, he disowned his opinions, and ordered everyone to bring everything up the hill, build a fire, and go to sleep.


	6. The Cadaver and the Jewel

But the Elves would not sleep unguarded, so Dínendal and Findecáno took turns keeping a watchful eye on the lands around them. Dínendal exercised an arrow in his bow, and aimed out into the star-lit fields. The Moon waxed into the midnight position. Stars were obscured by a cluster of dark clouds. He looked up at it, and could almost feel eyes looking down at him. Perhaps Tilion, the Maia that piloted the Moon across the sky, had taken notice of him? He felt comfort from this thought, and smiled. But in truth, this was not so.

Findecáno was beginning to succumb to his exhaustion, and sat on the hill in half a dream.

But, even as he closed his weary green eyes, he felt as though something was moving through the sky above them. What was it? A cloud? A bird? A product of his dream? Something else? Nothing at all?

Indeed, something had soared over the hill at that point. But it was so dark and so high in the sky, that Findecáno could not see it with his weary eyes, but he felt its presence still. It was moving towards the East from the South. A vast winged shape, menacing and unearthly; A great war-bird from out of the South had flown over the field and, under the cover of darkness, had been spying on these lands throughout the night. It saw the Elves sleeping on the hilltop. For a while it circled the field silently, scrutinizing the hill, before returning southward into regions dark and unknown. Its purpose, whatever it was, seemed fulfilled. And just as it did so, something else dropped down from the darkness above, vanishing into the forest.

When the winged shape and the left any possible sight from the top of the hill, Dínendal finally noticed Findecáno was falling asleep, and shook him awake, and prompted him to resume the watch. Then Findecáno took Dínendal what he felt as he dozed off.

"I thought something was soaring through the sky, spying on us." he said, with wide eyes.

Dínendal was afraid at this. He gazed aloft in vain for the thing that had spied at them, but was interrupted.

"It's gone now." said Findecáno. "But whatever it was, it was not a mere bird. If it was a bird at all."

"Regardless of the nature of the winged thing," muttered Dínendal. "We must double our efforts to remain awake and stand guard should it return, or-_What in Arda is that_?"

Something lay on the field in a dark, huddled mass. Findecáno could not help but run down to meet it. Dínendal ran after him.

They came to the dark shape, and discovered what it was. Someone was laying face-down on the ground, its body covered by a black hooded cloak. The gnats were swarming around it. Findecáno swatted the insects away and stooped over the cloaked body. The gloved arm of a woman protruded from the side of the cloak, but it did not move. He flipped the body over with a kick, revealing the front of the woman's body. The face was covered with a dark veil.

Findecáno removed the woman's veil, revealing, to his surprise, that the woman was dead, and had decayed into a skeleton, even as it lay on the ground in the cloak. Whether the woman came from the Edain or the Eldar, he neither knew nor cared, for he noticed that the inside of the hood held a blackened jewel between two chain-like cords, braced it against the skull's brow. The jewel repulsed the two Elves even more than the skeleton that wore it. Findecáno and Dínendal debated over what to do with the jewel, which they recognized as one of their kin's make.

"But we cannot allow that jewel, as defiled as it is, to be left unsupervised. Perhaps if we were to clean it…"

"Very well." said Dínendal.

With a knife, Findecáno cut the cords from the hood, and with them, he carried the tainted gem with his thumb and forefinger. He then dropped it into an empty pocket in his trousers.

"That will hold it." he said, relieved.


	7. Darkness before the Dawn

But once again, dread seized them both; they felt the presence of the war-bird soaring above them. They could not see it now, for the dark sky obscured the stars, and the Moon was about to set; The last hour before the brink of dawn was imminent, and the Moon was beginning to fade in the distance. And thus, the war-bird was never truly spotted that time.

The two Elves, fearing the war-bird's wrath, rushed back up the hill. They woke Lenwë and the others, and told them what had happened.

"We must leave now!" said Findecáno. "Pack everything, and follow us!"

"It isn't dawn yet!" protested Golradir.

"But dawn is near! I promise!" uttered Dínendal. "But now we must take our gear, and leave!"

Aerandir agreed with him, and did not remain idle: He grabbed their baggages and other equipment and piled it up before them. He then urged Golradir to follow suit.

"But what is the matter with you three?" demanded Lenwë.

"A winged creature has been spying on us through the night," recited Findecáno. "There is a dead woman's body near this hill, and on it, we found a contaminated jewel of our own make. We must clean it."

The other Elves, apart from Dínendal, gawked at him, skeptic. Lenwë looked up into the dark sky, but saw nothing.

"Are you certain of this?" he asked.

"Yes, and here is the first token of our proof!" declared Findecáno, pulling out the casing of the dark jewel. Lenwë gasped when he saw it.

"And the second token of evidence is just down the hill."

Aerandir lit his lantern and its light shone over the hill, illuminating much of the field. They saw the corpse of the cloaked woman laying on the ground away from the hill, but they saw something standing, or rather, stooping, beside it. Something horrid to look upon, even from that distance.

A black, spike-ridden creature was stooping over the cloaked skeleton. It heeded not the light of the Elf's lantern. It was preoccupied, stripping the skeleton of its mantle, which it donned as its own, hood and all. The skeleton's remaining raiment was exposed. It had worn a red and white dress underneath the black mantle. It was made like the dress-robes of a queen.

The spiky brute was now shaking the corpse apart, as if looking for something. Grunting and cursing in a tongue unknown to the Elves, it drew out two swords with crude-looking, curved blades. The creature then slashed up the now-mangled skeleton, and chucked the largest remaining piece aside.

Findecáno was alarmed by this, and quickly tackled Aerandir to the ground, and concealed his lantern. He then covered his companion's mouth, so as to prevent him from making a noise that could bring unwanted attention to themselves.

"_Hide, you fool_!" whispered Findecáno. "_I fear that it may be searching for that Jewel_! We must not draw attention to ourselves in any way!"

But Aerandir knocked Findecáno aside, and picked up his lantern. He held it aloft.

_Whoosh!_

Something flew over their heads. Something massive. They knew what it was.

"And that…" said Findecáno. "Was the third token of evidence!"

But suddenly, they heard a loud, high-pitched screech sounded violently in the air. In moments, a massive shadowy winged creature flew with unparalleled velocity _inches_ from Aerandir's lantern hand. They were knocked from their feet and hit the ground hard.


	8. The Spike Monster and the Winged Watcher

Indeed, the final hour before dawn was at a close. The Sun began to rise in the East. But before the first light entered that area, the war-bird had wheeled around and, riding the winds of the East, soared with great speed and unparalleled velocity over the hill. It was uncomfortably close to the Elves. So close, that all the Elves that stood were knocked off the feet by its charge.

The war-bird lowered its stiff, thick legs and squarely landed on the ground at the bottom of the Hill. It lowered its head to glare at the cloaked figure standing over the broken skeleton. It was confident that it had found the stranger with the tainted jewel.

It had been searching the Sunlands for many days and nights for the filthy stone, and believed it finally found the one that wore it. It craned its long, thin neck into an arch over the mysterious being.

But the cloaked one was not the one he was looking for; it was the last thing he expected to find: another malevolent entity. The cloaked thing stretched out two ironclad, spiked arms, with crude blades in the hands. Then it ripped its hood back, revealing the heavily spiked head of the creature that wore the mantle.

"You are just what I have searched for!" proclaimed Vyköl, looking up at the creature. "Queen Ungoliant shall be most pleased…"

The war-bird's wings were wrapped round its skeletal body like a cloak, as it stood upright at fifteen feet. Its long black shadow obscured the field, even as the Sun rose in the East. It examined Vyköl with skeptical eyes, but did not make a sound. Vyköl decided to bring the winged monster out of its silence.

"We are two of a feather, you and I…" quipped Vyköl to the war-bird. "I knew you would find yourself abroad…"

He moved his glaring eyes from the war-bird's face to the skeleton at his feet. Then, the war-bird's skeptical expression changed to a bored and annoyed one. It spoke with a snooty, intellectual voice. It sounded unusually synthesized, deep, and baritone.

"No. Please." mocked the war-bird in a dead-pan voice. "Carry on. I do seek something to quench my dry taste."

Vyköl made a sound like a cough and a groan.

"Now that I know you can speak," said he. "I am in need of your service. On behalf of the great Queen Ungoliant of the Dark Lands of the South, I demand you join this cause."

The war-bird said nothing.

"What say you, _fool_?" shouted the Underlord.

"Of course I shall join you." assured the war-bird. "But first, I seek something that has been bothering me all night."

It then turned its head to face the hilltop.

"There is something up there that I missed that interested me." it said.

"Then we shall go up there?" said the Underlord in his "normal" voice.

"We shall indeed."

Vyköl then sprinted and leapt to the top of the hill. The war-bird flew up after him, and dropped down on the hill, like a hammer against a nail. The Elves were gone, but their equipment and processions were not. A white lantern lay shattered on the ground, rendered useless by the morning Sun.

"Alas," said the war-bird, feigning sorrow. "They have escaped us. Those fair ones from the North. I wanted to know what they were…so I could hunt them down and grind their bones _in my black beak_!"

The war-bird took off into the dawn-lit sky, and spiraled over the field, cackling unevenly. But Vyköl sensed the presence of some other object on the hilltop.


	9. The Cadaver Vanishes

There was a patch of tall grass near the top of the Hill. Vyköl jumped into it, and discovered something gleaming in its midst. It was a dun war-horn. Vyköl picked it up, and he examined it balefully. It was not made by the Elves, for hideous characters were carved along the rim, and thorns protruded from the sides. Vyköl held the horn to his armoured face, and turned it over, revealing a sable badge with a strange face carved in.

"Gongs…" muttered Vyköl, depositing the device inside his cloak. He looked up at the war-bird, still spiraling aloft. Then he looked southward, towards Mórenorë. "I wonder how my favorite of all dragonesses feels now. I shall reckon my Queen softened her up…"

Meanwhile in Mórenorë, Naikamil emerged from the Crack, and looked up into the mercilessly blackened, lightless sky; by the standards of Mórenorë, it was night-time. She was still aching from the bruises she had received from her new mistress. The kick that she had received from Vyköl prior had left a dent in her scaly lower jaw.

"He scarred me…" thought Naikamil, scratching the dent with her claw, anxiously. "He broke my scales. Oh, that kick! My poor jaw…And Ungoliant. She's simply dreadful! She's even worse then Rúthlyg!"

She frowned, and bent her legs, and sat on her belly, resting her massive black head on the ground. She closed her eyes, and slept for but a few minutes,

When Naikamil woke up, she felt her jaw again, but the slightest of all hints of a dent still remained where Vyköl had kicked her. She then wandered off into the dark, cursing in under her breath.

Meanwhile, Vyköl was questioning his thrall over the device he discovered on the hill-top.

"Perhaps," said Vyköl. "you can give me an explanation for this!"

He held aloft the Gong-horn to the war-bird.

"I am sorry," it said. "I know nothing about th-"

"You know about the Gongs!" said Vyköl.

"I do, indeed," said the war-bird. "I do not know where that came from!"

"Liar!" shouted Vyköl.

"Perhaps the people atop this hill carried it with them, and drop-"

"Those were Eldar!" snarled Vyköl. "This is not of their make! They would never carry something like this, not even for spoils of war!"

"And how can you determine if they were Eldar?" groaned the war-bird.

"That lantern!" Vyköl pointed at the shattered lamp. The war-bird looked back and forth between the lantern and the horn.

"I do not-" it said, but Vyköl flared his green eyes in anger with an unusual aura. The war-bird met his eyes with a trancelike stare, waiting for its master to give to make his next action.

"Follow me back down…" he said, threatening the winged creature. "We shall investigate that corpse. Now!"

"Very well." said the war-bird.

Vyköl and the war-bird rushed down the hill, and came to the spot where the corpse had lain, but found it gone. Vyköl scratched one of the spikes on his head with a jagged, ironclad finger. He looked up at the war-bird. It shrugged its wings, confused.


	10. Of Gongs and Horns

The Sun was now clearly visible from the Hill. It shone red in the yellowish sky. Vyköl looked up, and clicking his long, spike-like teeth, beckoned the war-bird towards him.

"We are going down South." said he.

"And for what occasion?" said the war-bird.

Then suddenly, a great rumbling came from the jungle, and a trumpeting filled the dawn-lit fields. A big grey mass was visible over the trees. The war-bird tilted its head and faced it. It was a-

"_Mûmak_!" uttered Vyköl and the war-bird.

The Mûmak came bursting through the trees and into the fields, its great tusks gleaming in the red sunlight. Several whooping sounds followed it. The great beast lumbered past Vyköl and the war-bird, and ran beyond the Hill, trumpeting loudly. When it vanished beyond sight, the whooping sounds from the forest grew louder and louder, and could not be ignored.

Then came the _Gongs_: Hundreds of vertical black shapes were rushing past the trees at blinding speeds. One of them came out into the field, revealing itself to Vyköl. The Gong stood five-and-a-half feet tall, clad from collar to foot in black mesh. Its head was obscured by a abhorrent crimson mask with massive tusk-like teeth. It carried a two-handed, spiked mattock in its left hand, and had a burning torch in its right. It was a war chieftain. In its wake, its mesh-clad warriors reared into the eaves of the forest, sharpened staves and gnawed blades in hand. They were poised to strike, but all of them hesitated. Even the gong-chieftain quaked in its iron-shod boots. It was not the war-bird looming over them that they feared, but the spike-ridden abomination that stood before it.

"_Ugâka_!" sputtered out the gong-chieftain at the sight of the war-bird.

Vyköl drew out the Gong-horn from his cloak and held it before the Gongs. They all gazed in awe at him.

"You want this?" he asked. "I would blow it myself, but I have no lips."

He then threw the horn at the Gong-chieftain, and hit him in the midst of its mask, splitting it in two, and revealing its ugly greenish face. This angered the Gongs, and some of them began to throw rocks at the spiked fiend.

"_You will all...**DIE!**_" shouted the war-chieftain in his foul tongue, holding his terrible weapon forward.

"_Whoo, Whoo, Whoo, Whoo!_" chanted his warriors as an endless tempest with their horrible, shrill voices, shaking their weapons aloft in a rhythmatic pattern.

But Vyköl and the war-bird were not daunted. Vyköl drew out his blades, and leapt at the Gong-chieftain. He then hastily slashed at the Gong-chieftain's mattock, till it splintered into a dozen shards. Vyköl then kicked the Gong-chieftain in his squat belly, sending him flying into his chanting followers. The chant ended.

"Now, my servant." said Vyköl to the war-bird. "We must leave."

"With pleasure." it replied.

The war-bird spread its wings, and beat them in the direction of the enraged Gongs. Vyköl then leapt on its back and braced his legs around the winged monster's neck. The war-bird ascended into the sky, and flew into what darkness remained in the sky. The Gongs shouted curses after them, throwing their staves aloft. The Gong-horn was blazing loudly.

The two fiends flew, Vyköl steering his winged companion into the South, and towards Mórenorë, the Dark Land…


End file.
